The ghost of Jerry Bundler

Jacobs, W.W. (William Wymmark)
The Ghost of Bundler

PR

6019

A27G5

1908

c. 1

ROBA

French's International Copyrighted (in Kneland, her Colonies, an.
t'niu-d Stales, Edition oi the Works of the Best Authors.

1)

I
> 1

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o i

4.

4

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No. 138

THE GHOST OF
JERRY BUNDLER

BY

W. W. JACOBS and CHARLES ROCK

ADAPTED FROM W. W. JACOBS'S STORY

"JERRY BUNDLER"

COPYRICHT, IOCS, BY W. W. JACOBS AND CHARLES RoCK

•ILL

!()\ Prof< -.-ionaU and Amateurs are hereby
warned that "Tm-: (limsi OF

being fully protected under tin- copyright laws
of the L'nitcd Staie>, is .subjer* to a royalty,
and an\- tin«4 the plav withntu tl

rlu- t)\vin.-rs «.r their author; .11 be

liable to the penalties by law provided. Applications

,-ssionals and Amateur acting rights must be

:;uiel l:rench. t 45th Street,

PR

6019

A27G5

1908

c. 1

ROBA

PRICE, 30 CENTS

-e\v York :

\< II
ishtr

London :

SAMUKL FRl'-XCH, Ltd.
26 Southampton Street
and

THE GHOST TRAIN

A mystery thriller in 3 acts. By Arnold Ridley. Pro-
duced originally at the Eltinge Theatre, New York. 7
males, 4 females, i interior scene. Modern costumes.

The story is laid in a peaceful village in Maine where there lives
a superstition of twenty years standing about a ghost train which
flashes by in the dead of night, swinging the scythe of death. Rum-
runners use this superstition to their own advantage in the transporta-
tion of liquor from Canada. As the night train draws into the small
station, some passengers get off and the train moves on. These
passengers are compelled to wait all night, for they have missed con-
nections. And what a night they spend. When the decrepit old
station-master tells them about the terrifying "Ghost Train," bring-
ing death to all who observe it, they just poo-pooh the idea. But
everything happens as forecast. The station-master is stricken dead
mysteriously. The signal bell rings. The engine whistles. The train
roars through the junction and one who rashly gazes upon it appar-
ently succumbs. Lovers of mystery plays will find here a piece to
their liking.

"If you want a hair-raising, seat-gripping ride, buy your tickets
early for 'The Ghost Train.' " New York Mirror.

(Royalty, fifty dollars.) PRICE 75 CENTS.

THE SPIDER

A mystery play in 3 acts. By Fulton Oursler and Lowell
Brentano. Produced originally at Channin's Forty-Sixth
Street Theatre in New York. 21 males, 3 females. 5 in-
terior scenes. Modern costumes.

Here is a novelty, if there ever was one, replete with chills and
fevers. The authors have represented the dastardly murder of Carring-
ton, not on the stage, but in the audience. While Alexander, assistant
to Chatrand the Great, is reading the initials on your watch the
lights go out, a shot is fired and when the lights go up again Car-
rington is discovered mortally wounded on a runway over the
orchestra pit ;and immediately the theatre is loud with excitement.
Who fired the shot? As the play goes on through the succeeding
scenes, bringing doctors and policemen up the aisles, bidding the
audience to remain seated, and posting officers at every exit to pre-
vent escape, suspicion rests on the magician, the girl and others.
Shots bark here and there. House lights go on and off. Ghastly
objects swing across the darkness; strange faces and eerie voices.
And all in good time the slippery scoundrel is discovered.

(Royalty, thirty-five dollars.) PRICE 75 CENTS.

THE GHOST
OF JERRY BUNDLER

BY

W. W. JACOBS and CHARLES ROCK

ADAPTED FROM W. W. JACOB'S STOFY "JKRRY BUND1BR1

Coi'YRUJHT, 1908, BY W. W. JACOFS AND ClL.RLES ROCK

CAUTION: Professionals and amateurs are hereby
warned that "THE GHOST OF JERRY BUNDLER,"
being fully protected under the copyright laws
of the United States, is subject to a royalty,
and anyone presenting the play without the consent
of the owners or their authorized agents will be
liable to the penalties by law provided. Applications
for professional and amateur acting rights must be
made to Samuel French, 25 West 45th Street,
New York,

New York :
SAMUEL FRENCH

Publisher
25 West 45th Street

London :

SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd.

26 Southampton Street

Strand

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Especial notice should be taken that the possession of
mis book without a valid contract for production first
having been obtained from the publisher, confers no right
or license to professionals or amateurs to produce the play
publicly or in private for gain or charity.

In its present form this play is dedicated to the reading
public only, and no performance, representation, produc-
tion, recitation, or public reading, or radio broadcasting
may be given except by special arrangement with Samuel
French, 25 West 45th Street, New York.

This play may be presented by amateurs upon payment
of a royalty of Five Dollars for each performance,
payable to Samuel French, 25 West 45th Street,
New York, one week before the date when the play is
given.

Whenever the play is produced the following notice must
appear on all programs, printing and advertising for the
play: "Produced by special arrangement with Samuel
French of New York."

Attention is called to the penalty provided by law for
any infringement of the author's rights, as follows.

"SECTION 4966: — Any person publicly performing or rep-
resenting any dramatic or musical composition for which
copyright has been obtained, without the consent of the
proprietor of said dramatic or musical composition, or his
heirs and assigns, shall be liable for damages thereof, such
damages, in all cases to be assessed at such sum, not less
than one hundred dollars for the first and fifty dollars for
every subsequent performance, as to the court shall appear
to be just. If the unlawful performance and representation
be wilful and for profit, such person or persons shall be
guilty of a misdemeanor, and upon conviction shall be im-
prisoned for a period not exceeding one year."-— :U. S.
Revised Statutes: Title 60, Chap. 3.

THE GHOST OF JERRY BUNDLER.

Cast at Ube tmpmarfeet ZTbeatre.

SEPT. 9, 1902.

HIRST Mr. Cyril Maude.

rKNioi.n. Mr. George Trollope,

MALCOLM Mr. Lewis Broughtoa

SOMKRS Mr Marsh Allen.

r.r.i DON Mr. H. Norton.

DR. LKKK Mr. Wilfred Forster.

GEORGE (a waiter) Mr. Charles Rock.

NOTE. —Pen fold, Malcolm, and Beldon represent different
types of Commercial Travellers.

<Dri0inal Cast.

PENFOLD Mr. Holman Clarke.

MALCOLM Mr. Holmes Gore.

HIRST Mr. Cyril Maude.

SOMERS Mr. Frank Gillmore.

DOCTOR LEEK Mr. C. M. Hallard.

F.i.i.PON Mr. Cecil Ramsay.

GKORC.K (a waiter) ... Mr. Mark Kinghorr-e.

, >7. James's Tlieatre, London, June 20, 1899.

/,'«7/W. 11. r .lA/> *///'* 77/r<///v, J>ine 20, 1902. Same cast
••lit .]//•. Fr<inl- (fi/fniftrf. ir/iw fHU't ir,i* jf<i>/,<! by
Ifr. C/t<irlm n»rk. Tin- 11, rum i, M,rir,i!c Ji> -H, tit Mot i nee.

Ifai/itt<irJ,;f Timlin: S<jit. 0,1902^ Ran 100 performance*
Avenue Theatre. Dec. 20, 1902. £an88j>erformanca*.

THE GHOST OF JERRY BUNDLER.

SCENE. — The Commercial Room in an old-fashioned

Jute I iii d small country town. An air of old-fashioned
comfort ts in evidence everywhere. Old sporting prints
on the walls.

On the table up c. are half a dozen candlesticks, old-fash'
ioned shape with snuffer attached. Two pairs of car-
pet slippers are set up within fender. Red curtains to
window recess. Shutters or blinds to windows. Arm-
c'lair and about six other chairs in the room. One
old- fashioned settle. O'te small tabk. Clock. De-
canter of water, Jialf a dozen toddy tumblers. Matches,
etc. The only ligJit is a ruddy glow from the fire. ' Ket-
tle on hob. Moonlight from R. of window when shutter
is opened. Pnictical chandelier from ceiling or lights
at side of mantelpiece. DOCTOR'S coat and muffler on.
chair up L., his cap on mantelpiece.

All lights out, dark stage. Opening music. Curtain
rise — ticking of clock heard. M'ind^ then church flock
chimes, the Lights come very slowly up, when the red
glow is seen in the fireplace, the low murmurs of the
characters heard) and gradually get louder as lights
come up to when SOMKRS' voice tops all.

{T/ic stage occupied by all characters except GEORGE the

Vr. /V.Qvrvv,/, l'r.\i 01 i>, sitting in arm chair L.

of fin\ al'orc it. Doriou I.KKK standing above fire

and leaning on mantelshelf. HIRST sitting on settle

3

4 THE GHOST OF JERRY BUNDLER.

below fire and nearest to audience. SOMERS seated on
settle with him but above him. MALCOLM and BEL-
DON on chairs R. c., facing fire. ALL are smoking,
and drink from their respective glasses from time to
time. SOMERS has just finished a story as Curtain
rises. )

OMNES. Oh, I say, that sounds impossible, etc.

SOMERS. Haunted or not haunted, the fact remains
that no one stays in the house long. It's been let to
several tenants since the time of the murder, but they
never completed their tenancy. The last tenant held
out for a month, but at last he gave up like the rest,
and cleared out, although he had done the place up
thoroughly, and must have been pounds out of pocket
by the transaction.

MALCOLM. Well, it's a capital ghost story, I admit,
that is, as a story, but I for one can't swallow it.

HIRST. I don't know, it is not nearly so improb*
able as some I have heard. Of course it's an old
idea that spirits like to get into the company of human
beings. A man told me once, that he travelled down
by the Great Western, with a ghost as fellow passenger,
and hadn't the slightest suspicion of it, until the in-
spector came for tickets. My friend said, the way that
ghost tried to keep up appearances, by feeling in all its
pockets, and even looking on the floor for its ticket,
was quite touching. Ultimately it gave it up, and with
a loud groan vanished through the ventilator.

(SOMERS, MALCOLM and LEEIC laugh heartily^)

BELDON Oh, I say come iiow, that'll do.

PENFOLD (seriously}. Personally I don't think it's
a subject for jesting. I have never seen an apparition
myself, but I have known people who have, and I con-
sider that they form a veiy interesting link between us
and the after life. There's a ghost story connected
with this house, you know.

THE GHOST OF JERRY BUNDLER. 5

OMNES. Eh! Oh? Really!

MALCOLM (rising atnl going to mantelpiece, takes up
his glass of toddy}. Well, I have used this house for
sonic years now. I travel for Blennet and Burgess —
wool — and come here regularly three times a year, and
1'vr never heard of it. (Sits down again on his chair ,
holding glass in his hand.)

LKKK. And I've been here pretty often too, though
I have only been in practice here for a couple of years,
and I have never heard it mentioned, and I must say I
don't believe in anything of the sort. In my opinion
ghosts are the invention of weak-minded idiots.

PENFOLD. Weak-minded idiots or not, there is a
ghost story connected with this house, but it dates a
long time back.

(GEORGE, the waiter •, enters D. L. with tray and
serviette.)

Oh, here's George, he'll bear me out. You've heard of
Jerry Bundler, George ?

GEORGE (c.). Well, I've just 'card odds and ends,
sir, but I never put much count to 'em. There was
one chap 'ere, who was under me when fust I come, he
said he seed it, and the Guv'nor sacked him there and
then. (Goes to table by window r, puts tray down, takes
up glass and wipes it slowly.)

(MEN laugh.)

PENFOLD. Well, my father was a native of this
town, and he knew the story well. He was a truthful
man and a steady churchgoer. But I have heard him
declare that once in his life he saw the ghost of Jerry
Bundler in this house ; let me see, George, you don't
remember my old dad, do you?

(GEORGE puts down glasses orer table.)

No, sir. I come here forty years ago
next Easter, but I fancy he was before my time.

6 THE GHOST OF JERRY BUNDLER.

PENFOLD. Yes, though not by long. He died when
I was twenty, and I shall be sixty-two next month, but
that's neither here nor there.

(GEORGE goes tip to table c. tidying up and listening.)

LEEK. Who was this Jerry Bundler ?

PENFOLD. A London thief, pickpocket, highway-
man— anything he could turn his dishonest ha/)d to,
and he was run to earth in this house some eighty
years ago.

(GEORGE puts glass down and stands listening.)
He took his last supper in this room.

(PENFOLD leans forward. BELDON looks round to
L. nervously)

That. night soon after he had gone to bed, a couple of
Bow Street runners, the predecessors of our present
detective force turned up here. They had followed
him from London, but had lost scent a bit, so didn't
arrive till late. A word to the landlord, whose descrip-
tion of the stranger who had retired to rest, pointed to
the fact that he was the man they were after, of course
enlisted his aid and that of the male servants and
stable hands. The officers crept quietly up to Jerry's
bedroom and tried the door, it wouldn't budge. It was
of heavy oak and bolted from within.

(OMNES lean forward, showing interest.}

Leaving his comrade and a couple of grooms to guard
the bedroom door, the other officer went into the yard,
and, procuring a short ladder, by this means reached
the window of the room in which Jerry was sleeping.
The Inn servants and stable hands saw him get on to
the sill and. try to open the window. Suddenly there
was a crash of glass, and with a cry, he fell in a heap
on to the stones at their feet. Then in the moonlight,

THE GHOST OF JERRY BUNDLER. 7

they saw the face of the highwayman peering over the
sill.

(OMNES move uneasily.)

They sent for the blacksmith, and with his sledge-ham-
mer he battered in the strong oak panels, and the first
thing that met their eyes was the body of Jerry Bundler
dangling from the top of the four-post bed by his own
handkerchief.

(OMNES sit back, draw their breath, and arc generally
uneasy. Slight paused)

SOMERS. I say, which bedroom was it ? (JSamestfy).

PENFOLD. That I can't tell you, but the story goes
that Jerry still haunts this house, and my father used to
declare positively that the last time he slept here, the
ghost of Jerry Bundler lowered itself from the top of
his four-post bed and tried to strangle him.

UELDON {jumps np, gets behind his chair, twists
chair round ; nervously). O, I say, that'll do. I wish
you'd thought to ask your father which bedroom it
was.

PENFOLD. What for ?

BELDON. Wt. 11, I should take jolly good care not
to sleep in it, that's all. {Goes to back.)

(PENFOLD rising, goes to fire, and knocks out his pipe>
LKKK gets by arm-'-hair.)

PENFOLD. There's nothing to fear. I don't believe
for a moment that ghosts could really hurt one.
(CiK.ouc.K li^/its candle at table.} In fact, my father
used to say that it was only the unpleasantness of the
thing that upset him, and that, for all practical pur-
, Jerry's fingers might have been made of cotton
wool for all the harm they could do.

hands candle, gets to door and holds it open.)

That's all very fine, a ghost story is a
ghost story, but when a gentleman tells a tale of a

8 THE GHOST OF JERRY BUNDLER,

ghost that haunts the house in which one is going to
sleep, I call it most ungentlemanly.

fl/aces his chair to L. of table R. PENFOLD goes
up to c. LEEK sits in ar^ chair. BELDON goes to
fire-place.}

PENFOLD. Pooh ! Nonsense. (At table up C.).
(During his speech GEORGE lights one of the candles.)

Ghosts can't hurt you. For my own part, I should
rather like to see one.

OMNES. Oh, come now -- etc.

PENFOLD. Well, I'll bid you good-night, gentlemen,

(He goes towards door L. GEORGE opens it for him ; ht
passes out as they all say.)

OMNES. Good-night.

(HIRST rises , crosses to L. c.)

BELDON (up R., calling after him). And I hope
Jerry'll pay you a visit.

MALCOLM (rises, goes to fere]. Well, I'm going to
have another whisky if you gentlemen will join me. I
think it'll do us all good after that tale. George, take
the orders.

(GEORGE comes down with salver to table R., gathers up
glasses.)

SOMERS. Not quite so much hot water in mine.
MALCOLM. I'll have the same again, George.
BELDON. A leetle bit of lemon in mine, George.
LEEK. Whisky and soda for me, please.
HIRST. Whisky !

(GEORGE goes to table R., collects glasses, crosses to door
L. speaks.)

GEORGE (to MALCOLM). Shall I light the gas, Mr.
Malcolm ? (At door. \

THE GHOST OF JERRY BUNDLER. 9

MALCOLM. No, the fire's very comfortable, unless
any of you gentlemen prefer the gas.

OMNES. No, not at all — etc.

MALCOLM. Never mind, George. {This to GEORGE
as no one wants the gas.) The firelight is pleasanter.

(Exit GEORGE for orders L.)
(BELDON gets c.)

MALCOLM (at fire). Does any gentleman know
another ?

SOMERS (seated R.). Well, I remember hear-
ing

BELDON (/// c.). Oh, I say— that'll do.

(OMNES laugh.)

LEEK. Yes, I think you all look as if you'd heard
enough ghost stories to do you the rest of your lives.
And you're not all as anxious to see the real article as
the old gentleman who's just gone.

HIRST (looking to L.). Old humbug 1 I should
like to put him to the test, (c.) (Bus.) I say, suppose
I dress up as Jerry Bundler and go and give him a
chance of displaying his courage ? I bet I'd make the
old party sit up.

MALCOLM. Capital !

BELDON. A good idea.

LKKK. I shouldn't, if I were you.

HIRST. Just for the joke, gentlemen (c.).

SOMERS. No, no — drop it, Hirst.

HIRST. Only for the joke. Look here, I've got
some things that'll do very well. We're going to have
some amateur theatricals at my house. We're doing a
couple of scenes from " The Rivals," Somers, (point-
ing to SOMERS) and I have been up to town to,get the
costumes, wigs, etc., to-day. I've got them up-stairs —
knee-breeches, stockings, buckled shoes, and all that
sort of thing. It's a rare chance. If you wait a bit.

10 THE GHOST OF JERRY BUNDLER.

I'll give you a full dress rehearsal, entitled "Jerry
Bundler, or the Nocturnal Stranger." (At door L.).

LEEK (sneeringly). You won't frighten us, will
you?

HIRST. I don't know so much about that — it's a
question of acting, that's all.

MALCOLM. I'll bet you a level sov, you don't
frighten me.

HIRST (quietly}. A level sov. (Pauses.} Done.
I'll take the bet to frighten you first, and the old boy
afterwards. These gentlemen shall be the judges.
(Points to LEEK and BELDON.)

BELDON (up c.). You won't frighten us because
we're prepared for you, but you'd better leave the old
man alone. It's dangerous play. (Appeals to LEEK).

HIRST. Well, I'll try you first. (Moves to door and
pauses.') No gas, mind.

OMNES. No ! no !

HIRST (laughs). I'll give you a run for your
money.

(GEORGE enters, holds door open.)
(Exit HIRST.)

(GEORGE passes drinks round. Five drinks. SOMERS
takes the one ordered for HIRST and puts it on the
table R. BELDON sits R. c. GEORGE crosses to table,
puts two drinks down, goes to fire and gives drinks,
then up to table, puts tray down, takes up glass and
begins to wipe it, gets down L. for lines.)

LEEK (to MALCOLM). I think you'll win your bet,
sir, but I vote we give him a chance. Suppose we
have cigars round, and if he's net back by the time
we've finished them I must be off, as I have a quarter
of an hour's walk before me. (Looks at watch.) He's
a friend of yours, isn't he ?

SOMERS. Yes, I have known him a good many
years now, and I must say he's a rum chap ; just crazy

THE GHOST OF JERRY BUNDLER. H

about acting and practical joking, though I've often
told him he carries the hitter too far at times. In this
case it doesn't matter, but I won't let him try it on the
old gentleman. You see we know what he's going to
do, and are prepared, but he doesn't, and it might lead
to illness or worse ; the old chap's sixty-two and such
a shock might have serious consequences. But Hirst
won't mind giving up that part of it, so long as he gets
in opportunity of acting to us.

LKKK. (knocks pipe on grate r Well, I hope he'll
burry up. It's getting pretty late. (To SOMKRS.)

MALCOLM. Well, gentlemen, your health 1^

SOMERS. Good luck.

LEEK. Hurrah 1

BELDON. Chin-chin !

LEEK. By the way, how is it you happen to be
here to-night ?

SOMERS. Oh, we missed the connection at Tolles-
ton Junction and as the accommodation at the Railway
Arms there was rather meagre, the Station Master ad-
vised us to drive on here, put up for the night, and
catch the Great Northern express from Exton in the
morning. (Rises, crosses to L.) Oh, George, that
reminds me — you might see that ' Boots ' calls us at 7
sharp.

(BELDON rises t goes up to them to fire.")

GEORGE. Certainly, sir. What are your numbers ?

SOMERS. 13 and 14.

GEORGE. I'll put it on the slate, special, sir. (Goes
to door L.)

LEEK. I beg pardon, gentlemen, I forgot the cig-
ars ; George, bring some cigars back with you.

BELDON. A very mild one for me.

GEORGE. Very well, sir. (Takes up tray from side-
board.)

(Exit L.)

CSOMERS SltS R. C.)

12 THE GHOST OF JERRYS BUNDLER.

MALCOLM. I think you were very wise coming on
here. (Sits on settle R.) I stayed att he Railway
Arms, Tolleston, once — never again though. Is your
friend clever at acting ?

SOMERS. I don't think he's clever enough to frighten
you. I'm to spend Christmas at his place, and he's
asked me to assist at the theatricals he spoke of.
Nothing would satisfy him till I consented, and I
must honestly say I am very sorry I ever did, for I
expect I shall be pretty bad. I know I have scarcely
slept a wink these last few nights, trying to get the
words into my head.

(GEORGE enters backwards, pale and trembling?)

MALCOLM. Why! Look — what the devil's the
matter with George ? (Crosses to GEORGE.)

GEORGE. I've seen it, gentlemen. (Down stage

L. C.)

OMNES. Seen who ?

(BELDON down R. edge of table R. LEEK up R. c.
SOMERS up R.)

GEORGE. The ghost. Jer — Bun —

MALCOLM. Why, you're frightened, George.

GEORGE. Yes, sir. It was the suddenness of it,
and besides I didn't look for seeing it in the bar.
There was only a glimmer of light there, and it was
sitting on the floor. I nearly touched it.

MALCOLM (goes to door, looks ojf, then returns — to
others). It must be Hirst up to his tricks. George
was out of the room when he suggested it. (To
GEORGE.) Pull yourself together, man.

GEORGE. Yes, sir — but it took me unawares. I'd
never have gone to the bar by myself if I'd known it
was there, and I don't believe you would, either, sir.

MALCOLM. Nonsense, I'll go and fetch him in.
(Crosses to L.)

GEORGE (clutching him by the sleeve). You don't
know what it's like, sir. It ain't fit to look at by your-

THE GHOST OF JERRY BUNDLER. 13

self, it ain't indeed. It's got the awfullest deathlike
face, and short cropped red hair — it's —

(Smothered cry i< he ird)
What's that ? (Backs to C and leans on chair!)

(ALL start, and a quick pattering of footsteps is heard
rapidly approaching the room. The door flies open
and \\.\KSV flings himself gasping and shivering into
MALCOLM'S arms. The door remains open. He has
only his trousers and shirt 0/1, his face very white
with fear and his own hair all standing on end.
LEEK lights the gas > then goes to R. of HIRST.)

OMNES. What's the matter ?
MALCOLM. Why, it's Hirst.

(Shakes him roughly by the shoulder.) •

What's up ?

HIRST. I've seen — oh, Lord 1 I'll never play the
fool again. (Goes c.)

OTHERS. Seen what ?

HIRST. Him — it — the ghost — anything.

MALCOLM (uneasily}. Rot !

HIRST. I was coming down the stairs to get some*
thing I'd forgotten, when I felt a tap — (He breaks ojf
suddenly gazing through opc?i door.} I thought I saw
it again — Look — at the foot of the stairs, can't you
see anything? (Shaking LEEK.)

LEEK (crosses to door peering down passage). No,
there's nothing there. (Stays up L.)

(HiRST£7zw a sigh of relief )

MALCOLM (L. c.). Go on — you felt a tap—
HIRST (c.). I turned and saw it — a little wicked

head with short red hair — and a white dead face —

horrible.

(Clock chimes three-quarters.)

(They assist him into chair L. of table R.)

14 THE GHOST OF JERRY BUNDLER.

GEORGE (up c.). That's what I saw in the bar —
'orrid — it was devilish. (Coming c.)

(MALCOLM crosses to L. HIRST shudders.}

MALCOLM. Weil, it's a most unaccountable thing.
It's the last time I come to this house. (Goes to R. of
LEEK.)

GEORGE. I leave to-morrow. I wouldn't go down
to that bar alone — no, not for fifty pounds. (Goes up
R. to arm-chair.)

SQMERS (crosses to door^. then returns to R. c.). It's
talking about the thing that's caused it, I expeet
We've had it in our minds, and we've been practi-
cally forming a spiritualistic circle without knowing it.
(Goes to back of table R.)

% BELDON (crosses to R. c.). Hang the old gentleman.
Upon my soul I'm half afraid to go to bed.

MALCOLM. Doctor, it's odd they should both think
they saw something.

(They both drop down L. c.)

GEORGE (up c.). I saw it as plainly as I see you, sir.
P'raps if you keep your eyes turned up the passage
you'll see it for yourself. (Points.}

(They all look. BELDON goes to SOMERS.)

BELDON. There — what was that ?

MALCOLM. Who'll go with me to the bar!

LEEK. I will. (Goes to door}

BELDON (gulps}. So — will I. (Crosses to door L
They go to the door. To MALCOLM.) After you, (They
slowly pass into the passage. GEORGE watching them.
All exit except HIRST and SOMERS.)

SOMERS. How do you feel now, old man ?

HIRST (changing his frightened manner to one of as-
surance}. Splendid !

SOMERS. But — (a step back}

HIRST. I tell you I feel splendid.

Til i: ( ! H< >ST OF JERRY BUNDLER. 15

SOMKRS. Hut the ghost — (Sfr/>s back to c.)

1 1 IKS i'. \\V11, upon my word, Somers — you're not
as sharp as I thought you.

SOMKRS. What do you mean?

HlRST. Why, that I was the ghost George saw.
(Ov/.v.\v.v to L. c.) By Jove, he was in a funk 1 I fol-
Unu'd him to the door and overheard his description
of what he'd seen, then I burst in myself and pretended
I'd seen it too. I'm going to win that, bet — (VOICES
heard. Crosses to R.) Look out, they're coming back.
(Sits.)

SOMKKS. Yes, but

HIRST. Don't give me away — hush I

(Re-enter MALCOLM, LKEK, BKLDOX and GEORGE L.)
(I>Ki,DON and GEORGE £# up to back c.)

HIRST. Did you see it? (/// his frightened man-
ner.)

MALCOLM (c.) I don't know — I thought I saw
something, but it might have been fancy. I'm in the
mood to see anything just now. (To HIRST.) How
are you feeling now, sir ? "

HIRST. Oh, I feel a bit better now. I daresay you
think I'm easily scared — but you didn't see it.

MALCOLM. Well, I'm not quite sure. (Goes to
fire)

LEEK. You've had a bit of a shock. Best thing
you can do is to go to bed.

HIRST (finishing Jiis drink). Very well. Will you,
(tises) share my room with me, Somers?

(GEORGE lights two candles)

SOMERS (crosses to L. c.). I will with pleasure.
(Gets up to tab!.: r. and gets a candle}. Provided you
don't mind sleeping with the gas full on all night.
(Goes to door L.)

LEEK (to HIRST). You'll be all right in the morn-
ing.

IQ THE GHOST OF JERRY BUNDLER.

HIRST. Good night, all. (As he crosses to door)
OMNES. Good night.

(ALL talking at fire, not looking to L. as HIRST and
SOMERS exeunt, HIRST chuckles and gives SOMERS a
sly dig.}

SOMERS. Good night.

MALCOLM (at fireplace). Well, I suppose the bet's
off, though as far as I can see I won it. I never saw
a man so scared in all my life. Sort of poetic justice
about it. (LEEK with revolver in his hand, is just
putting it into his pocket. Seeing him.) Why, what's
that you've got there ?

LEEK. A revolver. (At fire) You see I do a lot
of night driving, visiting patients in outlying districts
— they're a tough lot round here, and one never knows
what might happen, so I have been accustomed to
carry it. I just pulled it out so as to have it handy.
I meant to have a pot at that ghost if I had seen him.
There's no law against it, is there ? I never heard of
a close time for ghosts.

BELDON. — Oh, I say, never mind ghosts. VJ\\\ you
share my room ? (To MALCOLM.)

(GEORGE comes down a little, holding candle).

MALCOLM. With pleasure. I'm not exactly fright-
ened, but I'd sooner have company, and I daresay
George here would be glad to be allowed to make up a
bed on the floor.

BELDON. Certainly.

MALCOLM. Well, that's settled. A majority of three
to one ought to stop any ghost. Will that arrangement
suit you, George ?

GEORGE. Thank you, sir. And if you gentlemen
would kindly come down to the bar with me while I
put out the gas. I could never be sufficiently grateful,
and when (at door) we come back we can let the
Doctor out at the front door. Will that do, sir ?

THE GHOST OF JERRY BUNDLER. tf

I.KKK. All right; I'll be getting my coat on
(GEOKC.E gets to door. They exit at door \.. LI-KK picks
up his coat off chair up i.., puts it on and then turns up
trousers, footsteps heard in flies, then goes to the win-
dow* R. ,/«//r curtain aside and opens tlie shutters of the
window nearest the fire. A flood of moonlight streams
in from R. Clock strikes twelve.) By Jove, \vhat a
lovely night. That poor devil did get a fright, and no
mistake. (Crossing down to fireplace for his cap which
is on the mantelpiece. MALCOLM, BELDON and GEORGE
return — the door closes after them.) Well, no sign of it,

fh ?

MALCOLM. No, we've seen nothing this time.
Here, give me the candle, George, while you turn out
the gas.

LEEK. All right, George, I'll put this one out.
(Turns out gas below fire)

(MALCOLM and BELDON are /// at sideboard, GEORGE
having put the other gas out, goes up to them and is
just lighting the candles for them. The DOCTOR is
filling his pipe at mantel-shelf, and stooping to get a
light with a paper spill. LEEK whistles and lights
spill. The handle of the door is heard moving.
O.MNES stand motionless — MALCOLM and BELDON
very frightened. They all watch. The room is lit
only by the fire-light which is very much fainter than
it was at the beginning of the play, by the candle
which GEORGE holds, and by the flood of moonlight
from tJic window.)

(ri7ie door slowly opens, a hand is seen, then a figure ap-
pear* in dark breeches, white stockings, buckled shoes,
white shirt, very neat in every detail, with a long white
or spotted handkerchief tied round the neck, the long end
hanging down in front. The face cadaverous, with
sunken eyes and a leering smile, and close cropped red
hair. The figure blinks at the candle, then slowly
raises its hands and unties the handkerchief, its hsad
2

18 THE GHOST OF JERRY BUNDLER.

falls on to one shoulder, it holds handkerchief out at
arm's length and advances towards MALCOLM.)

Table

GEORGE

LEEK BELDON MALCOLM
Chair
Fire HIRST

[Just as the figure reaches the place where the moon~
beams touch the floor ; LEEKyfrn1 — he has very quietly
and unobtrusively drawn his revolver. GEORGE drops
the candle and the figure, writhing, drops to the
fioor. It coughs once a choking cough. MALCOLM
goes sloivly forward, touches it with his foot, and
kneels by figure, lifts figure up, gazes at it, and pulls
the red wig off, discovering HIRST. MALCOLM gasps
out "DOCTOR." LEEK places the revolver on chair,
kneels behind HIRST. MALCOLM is L. c., kneeling.
At this moment SOMERS enters very brightly with
lighted candle].

SOMERS. Well, did Hirst win his bet? (Seeing
HIRST on floor, he realizes the matter). My God, you
didn't — I told him not to. I told him not to ! 1 I
told him — -falls fainting into arms of GEORGE.

Curtain.
PICTURE.

BELDON GEORGE

LEEK HIRST MALCOLM SOMERS

(kneeling) (seated (kneeling) (at door L.)
on fioor)

NOTE. When played at The Haymarket the piece
finished with a different ending as given below. MR.
CYRIL MAUDE fearing the above tragic termination would
be too serious.

THE GHOST OF JERRY BUNDLER. 19

from SOMERS' entrance.

SOMKRS enters w;th lighted candle, and exclaims very
brightly.

SOMERS. Well, did Hirst win his bet ?
Slight pause.

HIRST (suddenly sitting ///). Yes. (Turning to DR.
LEEK.) You're, a damned bad shot, Doctor. (Then
& MALCOLM.) And I'll trouble you for that sovereign,

The rtmwwig Characters express astonishment.

CURTAIN.

MARY'S ANKLE

A comedy in 3 acts. By May Tully. Produced originally
at the Bijou Theatre, New York. 6 males, 4 females, i in-
terior, i exterior scene. Modern costumes.

This brisk and peppery farce is one of the cleanest and most hilari-
ously amusing plays of recent years. It is the story of ambitious but
impecunious youth. "Doc" Hampton, without a patient, "Stocksie,"
a lawyer devoid of clients, and "Chub" Perkins, a financier without
capital, are in a bad way. In fact, they are broke and it is a real
problem for them actually to get food. Mary Jane Smith is the
heroine with the ankle. The three pals meet her first as a solicitor of
funds for the poor and again as the victim of an automobile accident.

A rich relative, "Doc's" uncle, inclined to be a tightwad but good
at heart, comes upon the scene and seeing Mary, immediately takes it
for granted that she is his nephew's wife, having been informed by
a bogus wedding invitation that the ceremony had just taken place.
The fictitious wedding had been arranged by the boys in a moment
of need in order to get "Doc's" family in the West to send on wed-
ding presents that could be pawned. As his wedding present, the
Uncle insists that "Doc" and Mary accompany him to Bermuda. The
situation is tense, but Mary has a sense of humor, and saves the day.

(Royalty, twenty-five dollars.) PRICE 75 CENTS.

WILD WAVES

A comedy in 3 acts. By William Ford Manley. Pro-
duced originally at the Times Square Theatre, New York.
30 males, 15 females. 4 interior scenes. Modern costumes.

A rollicking farce about what transpires behind the microphone of
a broadcasting studio. The most popular singing artist in Station
WWVW is Roy Denny. Through some mischance it comes about that
the Denny "golden voice" is really John Duffy. Duffy, being a
nervous lad, has always failed miserably from microphone fright
whenever he has attempted to sing under his own name. When he
croons under Denny's name he kindles the divine hope in female
breasts clear across this palpitating country. But Denny receives all
the credit. This hoax destroys Duffy's personal love life and results
in a conspiracy inside Station WWVW. As a sort of undercurrent to
the narrative it introduces satiric bits about the buncombe of radio
broadcasting. The play offers fine opportunities for the introduction
of musical numbers and comedy acts.

(Royalty, twenty-five dollars.) PRICE 75 CENTS.

THE MIDDLE WATCH

A farcical comedy in 3 acts. By Ian Hay and Stephen
King-Hall. Produced originally at the Times Square
Theatre, New York. 9 males, 6 females. Modern costumes
and naval uniforms. 2 interior scenes.

During a reception on board H. M. S. "Falcon," a cruiser on the
China Station, Captain Randall of the Marines has become engaged to
Fay Eaton, and in his enthusiasm induces her to stay and have dinner
in his cabin. This is met with stern disapproval by Fay's chaperon,
Charlotte Hopkinson, who insists that they leave at once. Charlotte,
however, gets shut up in the compass room, and a gay young Ameri-
can widow accepts the offer to take her place, both girls intending
to go back to shore in the late evening. Of course, things go wrong,
and they have to remain aboard all night. By this time the Captain
has to be told, because his cabin contains the only possible accommo-
dations, and he enters into the conspiracy without signalling the Ad-
miral's flagship. Then the "Falcon" is suddenly ordered to sea, and
the Admiral decides to sail with her. This also makes necessary the
turning over to him of the Captain's quarters. The presence of the
ladies now becomes positively embarrassing. The girls are bundled into
one cabin just opposite that occupied by the Admiral. The game of
"general-post" with a marine sentry in stockinged feet is very funny,
and so are the attempts to explain matters to the "Old Man" next
morning. After this everything ends both romantically and happily.

(Royalty, twenty-five dollars.) PRICE 75 CENTS.

NANCY'S PRIVATE AFFAIR

A comedy in 3 acts. By Myron C. Pagan. Produced
originally at the Vanderbilt Theatre, New York. 4 males,
5 females. 2 interior scenes. Modern costumes.

Nothing is really private any more — not even pajamas and bedtime
stories. No one will object to Nancy's private affair being made public,
and it would be impossible to interest the theatre public in a more
ingenious plot. Nancy is one of those smart, sophisticated society
women who wants to win back her husband from a baby vamp. Just
how this is accomplished makes for an exceptionally pleasant evening.
Laying aside her horn-rimmed spectacles, she pretends indifference and
affects a mysterious interest in other men. Nancy baits her rival with
a bogus diamond ring, makes love to her former husband's best friend,
and finally tricks the dastardly rival into a marriage with someone
else.

Mr. Fagan has studded his story with jokes and retorts that will
keep anv audience in a constant uproar.

(Royalty, twenty-five dollars.) PRICE 75 CENTS.

TAKE MY TIP

A comedy in 3 acts. By Nat N. Dorfman. Produced
originally at the 48th Street Theatre in New York.
7 males, 6 females, i interior scene. Modern costumes.

Few of us have escaped getting our fingers burnt in the crash of
the stock market, and even those of us who have, have heard enough
about it to take a sympathetic and amused interest in the doings of
Henry Merrill when he tries to buck the game and grow rich. The
play starts just two months before the crash. Henry, of the local
soap works, is so heavy an investor in an oil stock that he is made
a thirty-sixth Vice President of the Corporation. Not being the kind
of fellow who would forget his friends in this time of good fortune,
he lets them all in on the good thing. Being humanly greedy, the
friends jump at the chance to profit. ... In the second act, after
Henry's daughter has eloped, the friends are presenting Henry with
a diamond-studded wrist watch, as a token of their esteem, when
news comes of the Wall Street upheaval and all are wiped out. Things,
however, are not as bad as they look, for Henry, who has an invention
to revolutionize the soap industry, sells the idea for a large price and
everything is all right again.

(Royalty, twenty-five dollars.) PRICE 75 CENTS.

PETER FLIES HIGH

A comedy in 3 acts. By Myron C. Pagan. Produced
originally at the Gaiety Theatre, New York. 8 males, 6
females, i interior scene. Modern costumes.

This delightful comedy concerns one Peter Turner who caddied
for the Morgans, the Kahns and the Guggenheims on the links at
Miami. It was during one of these rounds on the golf links that
Peter fell over and killed a stray dog. The local paper built the story
up so that Peter becomes a nation-wide hero who saved the lives of
many people by strangling a mad canine. By the time the story
reaches his home town, Rosedale, New Jersey, Peter has become the
boon companion of all the money kings — at least in the public mind
— and Peter does his best to foster the deception. Carried away by
his imagination he pretends to be a friend of the great, persuades his
brother-in-law to buy an option to a ninety-acre lot on the assump-
tion that "Guggenheim" is to build a golf course there, obtains
$10,000 from the local banker and then becomes badly involved in his
deceptions. After Peter endures the ridicule of his townsfolk and
the ire of the banker there suddenly appears on the scene a represen-
tative of "Guggenheim" who wants the acreage not for a golf course
but an air field, and promptly turns over a check for $75,000 for
a part of it.

(Royalty, twenty-five dollars.) PRICE 75 CENTS.

THE IMPATIENCE OF JOB

A character comedy in 3 acts. By Pauline Phelps and
Marion Short. 6 males, 5 females, i interior. Modern cos-
tumes.

This modern comedy deals with the advent of elderly Uncle Job
into the home of the Benson family, already struggling to make
both ends meet, and who therefore extend him a somewhat grudging

me.

Uncle Job, blithely unconscious of being considered an intruder,
.< . ith the belief that he is about to make a fortune in
some mysterious way which he declines to rcvc.il. Cantankerous and
irritating, he proceeds to antagonize the Iknsons' rich aunt, the
only one able to befriend the family in case of need, and whose
good will has been carefully cultivated.

Just when Uncle Job's actions become so erratic that the aunt

he be sent to an asylum, the Benson boy gets into a serious

md to the surprise of the entire family, it is Uncle Job who

comes to the rescue, in a comical though highly practical way.

Later, Uncle Job makes good on his apparently chimerical scheme

for achieving wealth, and becomes the savior of the family.

(Royalty, ten dollars.) PRICE 50 CENTS.

THE EDUCATION OF DORIS

A comedy in 3 acts. By Marie Doran. 5 males, 8
females, i interior, i exterior. Modern and fancy cos-
tumes.

The story deals with young people in a co-ed school where a
substantial tuition is charged. The heroine, Doris Green, is anxious
to enter the school to complete her studies, after which she hopes
to engage in social service work. Doris, an orphan living with her

rinds all her ambitious plans are interrupted when the family
income is abruptly cut off. Doris calls at the school — not for the
purpose of entering Miss Frascr's class, but to bid good-bye. The
story of her disappointment reaches friendly ears, as well as some
who are not so well disposed toward Doris. The friends rally to aid

.dy to combat the opposition, and the battle is on. But it's
not such j rough war — it has many kind and humorous incidents.
The cumedv i^ developed around this situation, with our heroine the
central figure in the clash. Sympathetic efforts to overcome knotty
difficulties result in some very original scenes with amusing schemes
on the part of the hero, Richard Hunter, his pal Phil Martin, and
funny Willy Bright.

Any number of young people may appear in the fancy dress
scene, and singing and dancing may be introduced.

(Royalty, ten dollars.) PRICE 50 CENTS.

THREE STRIKES— YOU'RE OUT

A comedy in 3 acts. By Wilbur Braun. j males, 6
females, i interior. Modern Costumes.

When Samuel Phelps returns to his home after a business trip
bringing with him one of the greatest baseball players in the United
States, interest runs riot. Especially since "Dizzy Wynne," the base-
ball player in question, has saved Phelps' life. "Dizzy" has been
invited to stay for dinner, but after catching a glimpse of charm-
ing Lois Phelps he decides to make it an extended visit. Russell Swade,
a typical American youth, is in love with Lois, but — poor fellow —
what chance has he got against the famous "Dizzy"? You will thrill
with surprise at the novel last act wherein a baseball game is
enacted before your very eyes. You will howl with glee at Minnie
Hanks, the maid in Phelps' household, at Mrs. Lavinia Phelps who
has never seen a ball game in her life, and who is superstitious to
a degree, you will chuckle heartily at the supreme egotism of
"Dizzy" Wynne. Sure to be one of the most popular plays of the
season.

(Royalty, ten dollars.) PRICE 50 CENTS.

LITTLE MISS FORTUNE

A comedy in 3 acts. By Charles George. 4 males and 7
females, i very simple interior setting. Modern costumes.

The Cooper family consisted of a widowed mother and her two
children, Katharine, aged eighteen, and William, aged sixteen. Their
entire life had been a struggle for a bare existence. Mrs. Cooper
made and sold potato chips and Katharine made a candy that had
achieved fame in their town as "Kitty's Kisses," which were sold
at a local candy store run by a young man, whom everyone sup-
posed Kitty would marry one day. But he had ideas of wealth and
social position and had shifted his affections to the daughter of a
wealthy man. Life seemed colorless and drab for Kitty, when sud-
denly they were informed that their father's brother had .died in
the far West and that they were the heirs to his fortune. In an
instant, everything changed for the Coopers. Shops begged them for
accounts. They had arrived. During a stay at a summer camp, Kitty
had met a young man whom she liked. He was a quiet, unassuming
chap, presumably very poor.

A later will left by the Coopers' uncle is discovered, wherein all
his money is left to charity and they are right back where they
started. Their credit is withdrawn and their newly made friends cut
them. They face life, once again, with poverty staring them in the
face when the poor boy turns out to be the son of a very wealthy
family, and learning of their misfortune, proposes to Kitty and all ends
happily.

(Royalty, ten dollars.) PRICE 50 CENTS.